The Cemetery - XI

Part 1

Amelia

cont.

Just as a simple reference for my own storytelling, I’m not much of a writer either as fate would have it, I will begin by saying my older brother, Fredrick, was always a good man. He was the best thing in my life and always protected me from the horrors of the world. He was my rock when my husband died after only one year of marriage, he was my savior after our parents passed from us in our youth, he has been and seemed to always be the best thing that ever happened to me. So, when in the winter of 1815 he succumbed to scarlet fever, I was at a loss. I had been living with him under his care, still rebuilding my senses and life from my past losses, namely my marriage, and was looking forward to a holiday we had planned to take in the coming summer. He was going to take me abroad to Paris. I had always dreamed of venturing to France, I fear I will never see that now.

                When he first came down with the malady we called upon all doctors of all stripes to tend to him. In my brothers life he had the great fortune of being a savvy businessman and had come into a great sum of money over his years. So at 38 years old he was a venerable aristocrat. Not that he dabbled in those ventures, simply saving his time and energy to his business and my well being. So when the time came to take care of himself I barely had to lift a finger. He had all things in place for when he was sick and for in the off chance he did not survive. I was glad for this in a way seeing has how I still had no money to my name that he had all arrangements preplanned. The burden of debt would not fall upon me as there would be none. Though in the early days of his illness, surrounded by doctors and caretakers, I was certain he would pull through by Christmas and we would be all set to travel in the coming winter thaw.

                That however was not the case and on December 30^th he passed from us in the night. Due to dreadful weather the burial had to be suspended for a week but as I had stated all those arrangements were set in place beforehand. Letters were exchanged from the hand of his steward to the local cemetery caretakers, the funeral home owner, and those involved with his burial. I had only to attend the ceremony. Again, I was grateful for this preplanning of things for if I had been meant to manage any of it I would have failed. Aside from the pain I was enduring from his loss, the confusion of what to do was beyond me. When our parents died in our youth our uncle took care of those things for us, naturally being the only adult in our care and we were passed to him for a time before my brother, 17 at the time took me away with him. That story is not entirely relevant so I will leave it lie where it is in the sand. For now I simply want to illustrate two things. One, my brother was never one to be taken by surprise, or swayed by the ills of our world and two, he cared about me upmost before all things.

                The reason I want to illustrate this will become relevant soon enough but like I mentioned before I wish to start before 1816 to lay the ground work for putting my own thoughts in order. For when the new year was upon us I was in a terribly confused place and I found I could only find solace at the last resting place of my brother. Westknell Cemetery.

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